


Millionaire

by PureFury



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, BAMF John, Gen, buisnessman John Watson, millionaire john watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:59:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4357151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PureFury/pseuds/PureFury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Millionaire businessman, John Watson, doesn't want to be treated differently so hides his success from his flatmate, Sherlock Holmes. What will happen when everything goes wrong and his PA is in trouble?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The blond doctor straightened his purple silk tie while looking at himself in the full length mirror. Purple is definitely my colour, he thought. He cast a military eye down his suit clad body before straightening his collar for the fifth time. The fitted three piece Ted Baker suit was new. John's personal shopper always did an excellent job of finding the latest season suits, shoes and other accessories.

The doctor flashed a charming smile at himself in the mirror before sliding his feet into the new season Paul Smith dress shoes that had be purchased for him. He smiled satisfied with the quality of clothes he was wearing. Finally! Some Armani, Ted Baker, Paul Smith. This is life! Jumpers and jeans are definitely not!

Keeping this side of his life a secret was a constant task with Sherlock as a flatmate but somehow, John had managed to juggle chasing criminals and handling finances extremely well. Sherlock didn't require his assistance on every case anyway which gave him time to sort this stuff out behind his flat mate's back.

John strode towards his bedroom door, enjoying the sound of expensive shoes on the floorboards for a change. Just before he reached the door, he turned and checked himself once more in the mirror. He pulled his perfectly pressed jacket down further to remove the non-existent creases. He swiftly nodded and marched out of the door.

Sherlock was away on a case in Wales somewhere so John had the flat to himself for a week. He entered the empty living room and swept his newly dry cleaned Alexander McQueen business coat into his arms. It was the coat he saved for when Sherlock left London and he could concentrate on running his businesses. He wouldn't risk wearing this coat around Sherlock. It was the doctor's favourite and would probably end up being shot, ripped and torn. It was far to precious.

He was in the process of combing his hair to the side again to give a neat parting when his BlackBerry chirped. It was also an item he saved for work and not play. He pulled the device out of his pocket and opened up the new message. It was from his personal assistant,

Sir, if you are ready then we are waiting with the car. We do not wish to be late again. - Lindsey

The ex-military man sighed as he pulled on his coat and leather gloves. He really did prefer cases with Sherlock then meetings with political officials on handling his money correctly.

John worked in investment and finance but also dabbled in other areas that interested him like retail, media and he even played around with hotels. He put his success down to the incredible team he had built up but the truth was he had a natural talent for leadership and management.

John counted each step as he effortlessly travelled down the stairs. He stood behind the door as he removed more non-existent creases out of his suit and coat. A charming smile flicked across his face.

The doctor took in a deep breath of smog full air as he stepped out and released it in satisfaction. He lowered himself easily into the dark town car that was waiting for him.

Lindsey looked up from the schedule she was reading at her boss as he entered the car gracefully. She greeted him formally before silently handing a small black box over to John. The box was a black with white silk ribbon tied around it. It was just a bit bigger than a ring box.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at his assistant before pulling the neat bow apart. He opened the box to see two diamond cufflinks sat on a miniature white pillow. John fiddled with his old golden cufflinks until they came away from his shirt cuffs. He dropped them into his coat pocket and placed the new diamond ones in pride of place on his sleeve.

The ex-military man looked at his blonde PA again, "Who have I befriended now?"

"They were a gift from William and Catherine. They were so grateful that you visited the palace with Princess Charlotte's christening present. She wore it in the ceremony." Lindsey told her boss. She knew he didn't attend the christening. Her boss was far too busy with Mr Holmes and chasing criminals.

"Ahh, yes. You did say he would like it. Well chosen!" Lindsey blushed as her successful boss beamed at her and showered her with praise, "Send them a gift basket with a thank you letter. We have to stay on the royals' good side now, don't we?!"

The personal assistant giggled as she ordered the gift basket on the iPad in front of her. She really did like her boss. He was charming, witty and handsome just what she looked for in a man. Lindsey flushed red at the direction her thoughts had taken.

The car journey was reasonably quick due to a lack of cars on the road. The car pulled up outside parliament and the businessman stepped out followed by his assistant. He nodded to the driver who nodded back before he pulled away from the curb.

John rolled his neck. This is one of the things he loved doing, business. It was so unreasonably complex but that is what John loved. He plastered a disarming smile across his face. A smile which would be there for the duration of the meeting.

"How do I look?" The suited man turned to face his right-hand woman.

The PA scanned her eyes efficiently over the man, "Perfect as always, sir."

"Ready to face the beasts?" John joked light-heartedly.

"Can't be any worse then you, sir." John chuckled at the woman's witty comment.

Elegantly, they glided up the steps to the large doors, their footsteps automatically falling in time. They made their way through the familiar halls and corridors of parliament.

They reach their destination with minutes to spare, "Ready?" Lindsey asked quietly as they stood ready to open the large mahogany door.

John widened his business smile as an answer. They pushed open the doors together entering the large room of suited men and women.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft... And to think, all he really wanted was his scones.

Mycroft made his way quickly down the hall. Anthea had been gone for over 10 minutes and she had only left to fetch him a scone.

His shoes clicked along the floor as he strode in and out of any likely places that his PA may have wandered off to.

He was just leaving a small office in his search for Anthea when a short man strode into him. The man quickly apologised but was on his way again without so much as a single look at Mycroft. The politician mumbled to himself about manners when he looked back over his shoulder at the man.

He was dressed in an immaculate designer suit and coat. Mycroft was almost proud to see such good ownership of a suit when something caught his eye. As the stranger strode past a window his blonde-grey military cropped hair shimmered in the sunlight ... John?

Mycroft was about to rush after the John look-a-like when a pretty blonde assistant grasped his elbow. The governmental man turned to face the woman who was making unwanted physical contact with him.

"I'm sorry, sir. Please forgive my boss. He is late for a meeting so I do hope you will pardon his behaviour."

Mycroft looked down at the woman, "What is your boss's name, dear?"

"John, sir. Dr John Watson, sir. Please excuse me. I have to catch up." The woman flashed an impressive smile before hurrying after the good doctor.

Mycroft watched as she caught up with John and started rapidly talking to him. He looked extremely at home here as if he had walked these corridors hundreds of times before. The confidence was of someone who knew that they had power and influence. Something the politician didn't expect from retired solider John Watson.

Mycroft jumped when someone called his name. He span around to see Anthea stood behind him typing into her BlackBerry with one hand.

"Sir? Is everything alright?"

She held out a plate with two buttered scones on it without looking away from her device.

Mycroft snatched the food and stormed to his office.

What is going on here?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft calls Lindsey for a little chat.

Mycroft entered his office and only just resisted the urge to slam the door. Why don't I know about this? How has he hidden this from ME?

Mycroft sat fuming for almost half an hour before he decided that he would do something about his lack of data, as Sherlock would call it. He called Anthea through the intercom.

She was in the office before the politician had turned the intercom off. She had her BlackBerry in one hand and stopped typing on it as she looked up at him.

"What can I do for you, Mr Holmes?"

"Anthea, is the conference room currently being used?"

Anthea swiftly pulled up the room schedule on her mobile device, "Yes, sir. It has been booked from 11 till 12:30, sir."

Mycroft steepled his fingers and nodded slowly.

"Anthea. Listen carefully. The person in there has a PA which I would like to speak with. Please go and fetch her. Tell her boss she will be back before the end of the meeting."

Anthea nodded and trotted off obediently to get the blonde assistant.  
-

John sighed as he quickly read over the figures on the paper in front of him. Honestly these people need to learn some financial management. I hope they realise the more they spend the more they will be paying me in the end, he mused.

John looked up at the ten faces situated around the dark wooden table. They all looked particularly timid. They obviously realised that their performance was below satisfactory. He had built up quite a reputation for perfection in the financial business. People knew that if John Hamish Watson's name is stamped on a document then quality is practically guaranteed.

He also had a reputation for being very intimidating despite his height. John stood up and walked around the room in silence. Every pair of eyes was watching him. Every government official in the room was waiting with baited breath. He walked toward the large windows and stood staring out at London.

"I would like to congratulate you all. You have now made my top ten list of complete and utter idiots." John's time spent with Sherlock hasn't improved his manners, Lindsey thought silently." And anyone here who is even an ounce skilled at mathematic will be able to tell me how many of you are there in this room."

John turned to face the embarrassed government officials, "Now, Lindsay. Tell me, how many officials are around this table?"

"Ten, sir."

"Well done! Thank you. At least there is somebody in this room with a slight mathematical ability." John sarcastically commented while clapping slowly. "10. So you'd think one of you. Just one. Could count."

His clients looked awkwardly at each other, ashamed of their performance. They had spent over the budget and not by some small amount. They understood why John was furious.

John paced slowly around the table like a lion stalking its prey. He glared at every well suited person at the table each equally responsible for spending his money. The officials were beginning to considerably sweat under John's intense gaze.

The doctor turned to face the large windows gazing down at the Thames river. He opened his mouth to speak when there was a neat knock on the door. He called for the visitor to enter without turning around.

He heard the door open almost silently apart from the carpet rubbing against the bottom of the wood. He looked up at the window using the polished glass as a mirror. He watched as Anthea stepped into the room with an air of professionalism about her.

Without turning, John greeted the familiar PA, "Anthea, what can I do for you?"

The PA's eyebrows rose as she did not recognise the businessman who had just greeted her by name, not her real one but her name none the less. The doctor smiled as he watched her confused face in the reflection. He turned around in one clean motion to face the bewildered woman.

She studied the man to make sure she was seeing the correct person. John? John Watson? Her confused frown increased.

The man flashed a charming smile at her and she could feel herself blushing. This made him smile even more.

"What was it you were after?"

"Mr Holmes would like to speak with your PA. She should be back before the end of your session." She said quickly, resisting the urge to fiddle with a lock of hair.

John sighed and turned away from her again. He shook his head sadly as if he was experiencing great grief and sorrow. Anthea took the opportunity to scan her eyes efficiently over the suited body. She didn't expect John to look so good in a suit. Who knew that he had such a body underneath those jumpers? The expensive suit curved in at all the right places exaggerating his muscles and thin waist.

"I'm not sure I can let you take her." Anthea frowned slightly. People didn't usually say no to Mr Holmes. "You see, Anthea. I am having a talk here with these halfwits about maths and it seems that Lindsey, aside from me, is the only person in here who can count. So you see she is essential to my work?"

Anthea went to speak when John carried on, "Although, I suppose we could manage without her for half an hour. Please ensure that she is back in that time, Anthea. Otherwise, I won't be very happy." Mycroft's PA suddenly understood why the government officials were sweating profusely. John could be incredibly intimidating when he wanted to be.

"Yes, sir." She nodded gracefully.

"Okay then... Lindsey off you pop. Time for you to meet your first Holmes. Good luck." Lindsey swallowed as she saw her boss was actually quite worried about this meeting with Mr Holmes. She lay her note book down gently on the table before rising and moving over to stand by Anthea.

As they left the room Anthea racked her eyes over John's sensational body one more time appreciating the view. John saw what she was doing and gave a mock catwalk spin causing the PA to flush and hurry out of the room.

The two PA's walked in near silence save for the clicks of their heels. The chirping of Lindsey's BlackBerry caused both women to jump. She pulled out the device and smiled slightly as she looked at the sender's ID. It was from John. She could imagine him insulting the clients while sending the message. The insults may seem unprofessional but it worked and afterwards people were genuinely pleased that John had given them the kick up the arse that they needed.

 _ **He may seem intimidating but just imagine him wearing only is pants ... actually don't. I can't have you being sick and taking time off especially since Sherlock is away for another few days. We must go full steam ahead to sort out meetings and appointments before he return**_ s. **_So just remember he wet the bed at the age of 16. Only once but still. - Watson_**

Lindsey giggled until Anthea looked over at her in disapproval. John's personal assistant waited until the woman had turned her back before pulling a face at her. Lindsey followed the woman as they went down corridors that she never usually needed to go down.

The other PA slowed as they approached a large wooden door with Mycroft Holmes written on a gold panel beside it, Lindsey copied her pace.

Anthea knocked gently on the door while out of the corner of her eye she looked Lindsey up and down. She had to admit, she was slightly jealous that Lindsey got to stare at eye candy all day while she had to look at Mycroft.

A polite voice invited them in. Anthea opened the door and waved the other woman inside whilst giving her a particularly fake smile.

Mycroft greeted Lindsey in his normal display of telling her everything about herself. She looked decidedly unimpressed giving the elder Holmes a bland 'I realised that, sir.'

He looked back down at her with a similarly unimpressed look. She had a point though. Of course she realised who her parents are, where she grew up and that she worked for a certain John Watson.

Mycroft frowned and silently deduced the woman's life. She looked increasingly unamused to have been taken away from the meeting.

"Excuse me, Mr Holmes. Are you related to Sherlock Holmes, sir?" Lindsey cocked her head to the side.

"Yes, he is my younger brother. Why? Have you met, Sherlock?" Mycroft was determined to find out how John had hidden this so well.

"I was just curious. No, I haven't met Sherlock but my boss talks about him often."

Mycroft watched the woman intently, "Your boss, John Watson?"

"Yes, sir"

"What can you tell me of businessman John Watson?" The PA shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Don't worry, dear. It's all professional. You don't have to tell me anything he wouldn't be happy with me knowing."

This seemed to settle the woman slightly, "His name is John Watson. He owns the Watson Company formally known as the Marswell Company. He is extremely successful in finance, retail and anything else he fancies having a go at. His work in the media has taken off extremely well. Have you ever heard of Mayor Media, sir?" Mycroft nodded in affirmation. Everyone knew of Mayor Media. "Well, he is the company. He despised using his own name for the financial business but everyone insisted. Umm... He is a very good boss and when he isn't chasing criminals he is signing deals, securing meetings and sorting out figures. That's why he finds it useful that Sherlock goes away at least once a month on cases. It's so he has a chance to catch up on meetings. We are currently here talking to some people about their financial management."

The Holmes brushed his fingers over his lips, "How long has he been working like this?"

"Umm... Well, he employed me after he returned from Afghanistan but he had been doing business for a good few years before he left. I think he gave the businesses over to people while he went away but most gave them back after he was invalided home. He needed something to do. Something to take his mind off being home, I suppose."

"You said he was successful. Does that mean he is financially well off?"

"I don't feel comfortable telling you that," Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "But ... I-I do think he is wealthier then you think. Even now after you've heard of his success."

Lindsey glanced down at her watch. She'd been 15 minutes so far. Mycroft nodded but didn't say anything to the woman. The PA sat for a minute or so longer before she started to rise from her seat.

"I have to get back now, sir. My boss can often get carried away."

Mycroft seemed to snap out of a daze and nod in agreement. He walked her to the office door. Just as she was about to stride out Mycroft grabbed her wrist.

"Does Sherlock know anything about John's businesses?"

"No, sir. I'm sure John would appreciate it if it remained that way as well."

Mycroft watched as the PA strode away from his office and back towards the conference room.

"Until next time, dear!" Mycroft called after her.

"Next time?" Her tone made it clear that she disapproved of Mycroft's curiosity.

He sighed, How did I not notice this ... this empire beneath my nose?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs Hudson gets the wrong idea.

Lindsey just made it back in time for her boss' closing speech. She was familiar with how it went anyway. She quickly folded herself into the chair that she had previously been occupying and picked up her clip board to resume taking notes.

John glanced over at her while he spoke. He kept his facial expression plain but his eyes shone with curiosity. She gave him a reassuring nod in an attempt to convey how her little meeting had gone. He nodded back satisfied, all while continuing his conversation. The parliamentarians were completely oblivious to the silent communication that was happening in the room around them.

John decided to wrap up quickly, cutting out half of his usual finishing speech made the end of the meeting come much faster.

He sighed and collapsed into his chair at the end of the long table once his clients had left. He let himself lose the professional persona and slipped easily back into his normal self. John perched on the end of his chair when his PA moved to the empty chair next to him. He needed to know how the 'chat' with Mycroft went.

"The woman led me to an office that belonged to Mr Holmes, Sherlock's brothe-" She started.

"Yes! I know who it was! I recognised Anthea. What did he want to know?" John rushed the woman along.

"Umm... Just about you and your businesses. I was reluctant to tell him because I didn't really know exactly who he was but he said that if I was uncomfortable with anything then not to tell him."

John suddenly had panic written on his face, "Was there anything you didn't tell him?" He looked hopeful, pleading almost.

She lowered her voice and checked behind her to see if the door was shut completely, "I may have conveniently forgotten about the... How to put it? ...Black market business." She looked proud of herself for finding a delicate term for their criminal clientele.

John beamed at her, "What black market business?" He chuckled as he played along, "Back to the flat? I think I have papers to sign." She nodded in agreement.

They strode out of Parliament with their heads held high, pleased with the successful meeting. Lindsey flicked over the documents that John needed to read and sign while they travelled to Baker Street.

They pulled up outside Baker Street just as the rain began to drip down. John glanced up through the car window at the gloomy skies. He sighed, it is going to pour down soon. He quickly hopped out into the rain before holding the car door open for his assistant. He called his thanks to their driver before unlocking the door and dashing inside away from the rain.

As John and Lindsey started up the stairs the doctor heard the door to 221a opening and Mrs Hudson shuffling out.

"John?" The man was tempted to ignore the elderly woman and race into the flat but he was brought up with better manners than that. "John, dear? Is that Sherlock with you? Is he home?"

John jerked his head towards his flat in a silent signal for his PA to attempt to enter unheard by Mrs Hudson.

"No, Mrs Hudson. It is just me. Sherlock isn't due home until Wednesday night so two days of more peace and quiet!" John chuckled. Mrs Hudson smiled up the stairs at him. Her face suddenly lit up as if Christmas had come early. John quickly looked behind him to see what the woman was beaming at. He turned back to her with a confused expression.

"Look at you, John! All suited up. It is so well fitted! You should definitely let Sherlock see you in this if you want your relationship to progress." She looked so pleased with herself.

"I'm not gay, Mrs Hudson!"

Mrs Hudson waved a dismissive hand, "Of course, dear! Whatever you say." She smirked at him before returning to her flat.

He sighed as he reached the relative safety of 221b. Lindsey was smirking as she sat ram rod straight in his armchair obviously hearing the conversation. John immediately noticed that she looked awkward. He knew she preferred to sort out any business at one of the offices but it all seemed too much hassle.

He made his way up to his bedroom after telling his assistant to make herself at home while he changed into something more comfortable. He wouldn't be changing into his usual, jeans and a jumper. While Sherlock was away John liked to wear slightly more luxurious clothing.

He pulled out an expensive cardigan which he normally kept hidden at the back of his drawers and put it on over his casual shirt. He re-bagged his designer suit and pushed it to the back of his wardrobe, right behind his old army uniform.

He made his way back down the stairs just as Lindsey had just finished making them both tea. He grinned when he noted it was just the way he liked it.

"So papers? Yes?" John asked trying to keep a positive attitude.

Lindsey nodded in reply. She pulled out her small bag which John was certain belonged to Mary Poppins, her bag was never full and she kept almost everything in there. She rested the bag on her lap and dug around for a second before pulling out a neat pile of sheets. The pile, unfortunately for John, was extremely large and would take a lot of his time to read through.

A good few hours later, John's head was lulled back on the back of the sofa. His mouth was slightly open as soft snores escaped his throat. Lindsey smiled fondly at her boss before writing a quick note and leaving it on the coffee table by the partly unsigned papers. The ones that were signed she took with her to start posting or filing.

It was starting to get dark as the town car pulled up outside 221 Baker Street. She slid in and looked up at her boss' flat as the car gently pulled away. She sighed, knowing that John's busy schedule of business and tracking down criminals wouldn't help his health. She saw it every time they met up. He was exhausted and wouldn't be able to carry on like this for much longer.

-

A sudden knocking on the door caused the doctor to jolt awake. He rolled his neck, sleeping on the sofa was never a good idea, removing any kinks. On the way to the door, John picked up a small note with his assistant's neat writing on it. He smiled when he realised that she must have left it last night after he fell asleep.

Before opening the door, John pulled down on his casual shirt trying to get the creases out. His eyes flicked over to his Rolex, quarter to seven. He felt like groaning. It's way too early for visitors.

He pulled the door open and leant against the wood before looking up at the visitor. A small smile broke on his face as Mrs Hudson stood in front of him with a steaming tea tray.

"Morning, dear!" Her sing song voice filling the flat. "You said to me yesterday morning that you have to leave early this morning so I thought I would come and help you wake up."

"Good thing you did. I wouldn't have heard my alarm from down here." He smiled at the elderly woman before pouring out two cups of tea. "I just need to have a quick shower before I drink that. Please make yourself comfortable. I'll only be a minute."

Mrs Hudson listened as the water in the shower turned on. She glanced around looking for something to do. She pushed herself out of the chair to start pulling papers together and making neat piles.

She paused when her fingers brushed over some important looking papers that were addressed to John. Being nosy, she picked up the paper and started to read. Her brows furrowed and worry lines formed on her forehead. Oh no, she panicked to herself, it looks like John has gotten himself into an awful lot of debt. On the document there were rows and rows of numbers some small amounts with minuses by them but mostly large four digit positive numbers.

She knew she shouldn't be prying but she glanced at the page stapled under the top sheet. Her eyes widened when the total figure, that was halfway down the page, caught her eyes. She gasped slightly, £78,574. She didn't realise that they were the takings for one of John's businesses. She didn't realise that a majority of that was going in his bank and not out. The bank account Sherlock didn't know about.

How did John get himself into such an excessive amount of debt? She pondered. She quickly placed the document down on the coffee table when she heard the shower being turned off and John stepping out. Mrs Hudson sat back down in John's armchair and continued to slowly sip her cooling cup of tea.

John steeped out of the steaming bathroom dressed in nothing but a towel. Mrs Hudson's eyebrows rose slightly when she saw John's well formed muscles. His years of military service was still showing on his body.

"I'm just going to quickly get dressed, Mrs H. Don't feel you have to stay." He called as he raced up the steps.

Mrs Hudson wasn't listening. She was deep in thought about her tenant's financial crisis. Maybe I should lower his rent slightly? Why hasn't he mentioned this before?

John dug through his draws to find some comfortable clothes. Lindsey would be coming around in a short while with a freshly pressed suit to wear to today's meetings until then he had to make do with something he would typically wear when Sherlock was usually home.

He pulled yesterday's suit out of the wardrobe and carried it downstairs. They would drop it off at the dry cleaners sometime during their busy day.

He hung the suit up where Sherlock would normally leave his coat and sat in Sherlock's armchair to be opposite Mrs Hudson. John quickly realised that the elderly woman wasn't completely there.

"Mrs Hudson?" The woman suddenly snapped out of her musings "I asked if you wanted more tea."

"Oh! Yes please, John." She smiled fondly at one of her boys.

After pouring the tea John glanced down at the coffee table. He jumped up and started pulling his documents into a neat pile, hoping Mrs Hudson hadn't noticed them.

Mrs Hudson noticed his sudden action and thought it was because of his embarrassment about being in debt but it was actually his fear of people finding out about his past in business.

John sat back down quickly, "What we're you thinking about? It must be something important. I couldn't snap you out of it." He smiled kindly at her.

"Umm," She couldn't tell him she was thinking about his financial situation, "I was thinking about my oven. It's broken but it will be so expensive to fix. They say I might as well buy a new one. I might get a new modern one. You know, with all the timers and different settings so I can bake new things but one of those will be too expensive as well."

Mrs Hudson was pretty proud of herself. She had made up a convincing lie. Well, it wasn't really a lie, her oven was broken.

"How much would one of those modern ones cost?" Mrs Hudson shifted in the chair. It seems she didn't successfully take the subject off money.

"The one I was looking at was over £300." She said awkwardly, wanting to change the subject.

"Well," John glanced around the flat for his wallet. Once he saw it he stood up to get it and bought it back when sat down again. He had quite a bit of money on him because while Sherlock had been away he had been treating himself. He pulled out £400 and held it out for the elder woman. "You do enough for me and Sherlock so here. Take it."

"John, I couldn't." All she could think about was the doctor digging himself deeper into debt. She stood to leave but John caught her wrist.

"Please, Mrs Hudson. I insist. If you don't then I will go and buy it myself and I will buy the most expensive one I can find then get a new microwave to match. Take it!" John knew she thought he was poor and didn't want to inconvenience him.

"I will do no such thing! And you will not be so careless with your money!" John was about to continue to insist but then there was a knock on the door.

He sighed before opening the door. Lindsey stood on the other side holding a dark blue designer suit with a smile. She found that she craved his praise and appreciation.

"Beautiful!" John cried at her chose of suit. He took it out of her arms and waved her into the flat. "Good choice, Lindsey."

"Thank you." She blushed slightly.

She stepped into the flat to see an elderly woman sat looking curiously up at her. She smiled. John followed their gazes to see that they were staring at each other.

"Right, introductions! Lindsey, this is Mrs Hudson. She is the most amazing landlady but not housekeeper, remember that. Mrs Hudson, this is Lindsey. She is my ..." John and his PA quickly glanced at each other. Making sure they both wouldn't mention the businesses. "... My friend. If you'd excuse me, I've got to get dressed into this monstrosity." He pulled a horrified face at Mrs Hudson before shooting back up the stairs.

"He loves it really." Lindsey said always being the conversationalist.

"Loves what?" Mrs Hudson asked confused.

"The suits. He loves them especially when they are well fitted designer ones." She sends a friendly smile to the older woman.

"I've never seen him wear a suit before last night ... You say you're his friend... Is that just normal friends or something more?" The personal assistant could see the hope blossom in the other woman's eyes.

"I'm sorry. We're just friends so there will be not wedding or anything like that soon." She shrugged. It's not like she wouldn't want it to be like that though. "I heard what John was saying to you before I knocked. I think you should take the money. He has told me so much about how much trouble they cause you."

"I couldn't. They are like my children. You don't take money from your children especially if they are unemployed and struggling financially." Mrs Hudson was careful with what she said. She didn't know whether this friend knew about his financial crisis.

Lindsay nodded her understanding. She looked down at her watch. They were going to be late if he didn't hurry up.

"Excuse me a second." She said to Mrs Hudson. The PA walked over to the bottom of the stairs "John! We are going to be late!" She called up to her boss. It was half seven. They needed to be at the meeting at eight.

"Yes! Alright! I'm coming. I'm coming!" Mrs Hudson could hear John calling as he was rushing down the stairs.

Lindsey looked satisfied as her boss hurried up. John was tying up some expensive shoes that Mrs Hudson had never seen before when he remembered the elder woman was there.

"Sorry, Mrs Hudson. We've got to dash but stay up here as long as you want." He flashed a charming smile at her.

Lindsey quickly gathered the papers on the coffee table.

They were hurrying out of the door when the doctor suddenly exclaimed, "Oh! I almost forgot!" He rushed back kissed his landlady on the cheek and grabbed the suit hanging on the back of the door, "See you later!"

Mrs Hudson walked over to the window and watched as the man and woman slid into the dark car with practiced ease. I wonder where they are going.

They were a few minutes into their journey when John turned to Lindsey, "I will need a list of top of the range ovens and then also matching microwaves."

"How about some flowers or a new cookbook to go with them." She said while already scouring the internet.

"Yes, a new cookbook. What a brilliant idea!" John replied while signing his name on an agreement. "Very good, indeed."

Lindsey smiled while drawing up a list of quality brands.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A busy day for John and Lindsey.

It was growing dark and John was beginning to grow tired. Lindsey handed him the schedule to see what they have next to do. He sighed when he realised that they had one more meeting for today. It was with a new client; one that neither John nor Lindsey would speak about, one of the criminal classes.

His eyes glanced over their busy day:

8am- Financial Meeting, Dreger House

10am- Media Consultation Meeting, Fenner way

11:30am- Lunch with Denton Academy

12:30pm- Meeting, Greenway Management

2pm- Peterkin Financial, Basic information

3pm- Huppouris surgery, Financial Meeting

5pm- Media Centre, Mayor Media representative

6:45pm- Thames Green, Meeting - Warehouse 3, Thames road

John didn't particularly like working with criminal clientele but a large portion of the incoming money came from them. He shared a look of slight apprehension with his PA before leaning forward and opening a hidden drawer in the thin wall that separated him and the driver. He pulled out a gun and slipped it into his waistband. He didn't want to use it but he knew it was better to be safe than sorry.

He was being cautious especially since he hadn't worked with Thames Green previous to this meeting. He knew the criminal world was more or less based on mutual trust. If John did his job and stuck to his word then everything should, in theory, go okay.

"Maybe next time we will meet in their office. I'm never keen on these warehouse based meetings." John tried to reassure Lindsey as he could see her shifting nervously in her seat. He realised that it was probably worse for her since she didn't go around chasing criminals in her spare time.

"Yes, sir. That would be nice." He could hear the slight wavering in her voice.

"Relax. They might be just like those other ones you like, what's it called?" John paused thinking.

"Do you mean Slavish Ltd, sir?"

"Yes! They might be just like them for all we know."

John watched as a small smile formed on his assistant's face. The Slavish Ltd is a company that often comes to Watson Financial for advisement or loans. It is run by an extremely enthusiastic group of Slavic bothers. Lindsey finds them hilarious as they are often making jokes and having fun. They are by far her favourite clients even though they are technically criminals. John always used them as an example whenever Lindsey was worried about new "Black market", as she liked to call them, clients.

She was much more relaxed by the time they were driving down the long road with large dull warehouses along each side. Their driver slowed the car as they reached the third warehouse. John nodded at his PA before sliding out of the car before turning and helping Lindsey out.

The assistant watched as her boss lost his friendly personality and instead became all business. This was now the John Watson who owned almost 40% of all financial business in London, almost 60% of London's media and almost 40% of the legal businesses. He was also the man who kept his success away from his genius flatmate. He was on a mission and no amount of persuasion or temptation could sway him.

They walked swiftly towards the entrance of the large grey warehouse and John knocked firmly on the door. They only had to wait a couple of seconds before the door was swung open to reveal a large thug. He didn't say anything, just stood looking from John to Lindsey.

Lindsey could tell John was holding in a sigh, "John Watson, from Watson Financial." John kept his tone clipped and precise. He was practically radiating authority.

"Yes, I know." The thug grunted while scratching his closely shaved head.

This time John did sigh, "Are we allowed in then?"

"Yes." The thug said before slowly moving out of the way. One too many punches to the face, John mentally joked but it did little to lighten his mood.

The thug was tall, probably over 6ft, and well-built but his lack of brain cells made him seem almost completely unthreatening. John followed the thug through to what looked like an office. It had a large polished table in the middle with four suited men sat on one side.

They all looked native to London but were dressed like typical gangsters from an old American movie. Three of the men sat looking miserable and completely uninterested when John and Lindsey entered the room but one of them stood, a wide smile breaking on his face.

"Mr Watson! I'm Michael. Please have a seat." The man had a thick London accent which reminded John slightly of Lestrade's. He tried to keep his thoughts away from the police force especially when talking with criminals.

John took the seat that was offered to him and Lindsey sat in the free chair next to him. John looked down at the sheet his PA had handed to him. It was full of different deals that they could do. They were all small and wouldn't be noticed if the police were to check either companies' books. Working with the police on a regular basis had a few benefits.

"I've been told that it is correct to tell you this before we start. We do not do business if you murder, company policy. We can tolerate fraud, theft or anything along those lines but just not murder or guns for hire. If you do anything like that I'd appreciate it if you tell us now so we can leave. Just for your piece of mind we don't go to the authorities in these cases. We simply pretend that this meeting never happened. So do you think we can proceed or is it best we leave?" John explained to the men with a serious expression which somehow still seemed trustworthy.

The was a thick silence. Michael looked slightly disappointed, "Ah, then I am sorry for wasting your time, Mr Watson."

"It's no problem. That is why we make all clients aware of this to begin with." John gave a polite smile before rising from his seat.

"Here," Michael said while gesturing towards the exit, "Let me show you out."

They followed the criminal back to the entrance in silence save for the clicking of expensive shoes on concrete. He opened the door out and held it open. Lindsey made her way back to the car knowing that John always spoke to the rejected clients for a minute before joining her. She didn't know what they spoke about but he always did. No matter what their crimes were.

Just before the criminal tried to shut the door the doctor held it to stop it being closed. Michael looked at him in confusion and slight caution.

"Here," John held out a business card, "They might be able to help you more than we can."

The criminal took the card with a smile, "You are a good man, Mr Watson."

John smiled before handing them his own business card, "If you ever need any help which isn't to do with guns for hire then please don't hesitate to call."

The doctor quickly made his way back into the car. Just before entering the dark town car he stopped to wave at Michael who was waiting for them to depart. John stepped into the car and leant forward to speak to the driver.

"That's all for today so if you'd just drop us both home. That would be great, thanks." John said cheerfully, happy that the day was over and done with.

"Certainly, Doctor Watson." The driver said as he pulled away from the warehouse.

The drive back to their homes was in silence. They were both reflecting on the busy day. John was about to ask Lindsey something when they pulled up outside her flat. She smiled across at him, "Half day tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Sherlock is back in the evening so I'll need to sort the flat out." He let out a long suffering sigh at the thought of cleaning all his papers away. Lindsey noticed the sigh.

"How long are you going to keep doing this?" She asked gently.

"Doing what?" John was sure he already knew the answer.

"You can't keep switching lives like this. You're exhausted. You're supposed to get some rest when Sherlock is away but instead you're just as busy, if not more." She tried to smile reassuringly at her boss.

"I know," He mumbled. "But I don't know what I would give up. I love it all so much, the chaos with Sherlock and the amazing organisation and planning with you." She blushed at the praise.

Lindsey nodded and started to step out of the car when John grabbed her wrist, "Thank you so much!" He smiled at the PA, "Oh and do you think if I ordered the oven tonight it could be here tomorrow?"

Lindsey chuckled at the optimism, "I'd doubt it, sir. Although, maybe with some extra persuasion they might be more willing."

She raised her eyebrows in a way that said 'Money'. He nodded absently as he thought about bribes. She waved to her boss as the dark car drove off towards 221b Baker Street. The blonde woman turned and let herself into her expensive flat. She was lucky to work for a boss who paid so well.

John arrived home less than 5 minutes later. He immediately started up his laptop without even changing out of his suit. He loosened his tie and pulled off his jacket, folding it over the arm of the sofa.

While waiting for his laptop to start up he started to take papers and files up into his bedroom where he would spend tomorrow filing them away into their correct places where Sherlock would never find them.

After the living room was empty of his work the doctor checked on his laptop. He groaned when he realised that it hadn't fully booted up yet. He pondered whether buying a new one was wise when he lived with the great Sherlock Holmes. The detective would take one look at the new device, estimate the value, and then demand to know where this money had come from.

The laptop suddenly bleeped to show it was ready for John to select a user. John quickly clicked on the ID which showed his name and profile icon. From then onwards, the process with surprisingly fast on his old laptop. He pulled out the list of ovens Lindsey had provided for him. He quickly typed the one his assistant had circled into Google. A list of shops and websites popped onto the screen. He selected one that was for a shop relatively close to Baker Street.

He quickly wrote the address down and shot out of the flat pulling his jacket on, hoping that he would get there before they closed. He really hoped their 'late night shopping' guarantee still was in place. The doctor quickly caught a cab. The expensive suit made cab drivers think 'Money and large tip' making it incredibly easy to get a car.

The doctor arrived at the shop with minutes to spare. The look on the owners face showed he wasn't happy at the prospect of staying open later. John knew a very quick way to 'turn that frown upside down', as the saying went. He strode confidently up to the old shop owner and slapped the list of ovens onto the checkout followed by the other list of microwaves.

"I'm here to make a large order." John said whilst raising an eyebrow that said 'I know what I'm doing'. He looks like a rat, the thought quickly crossed John's mind.

The owner smiled pleasantly at John but his eyes were hungry. He's obviously one of those people who can just smell money.

"The ones that are circled, sir?" The older man asked hopefully.

John nodded making the man's eyes light up. The man hurried out to the back of the shop and John listened as he heard the man scurrying around. Yes, definitely a rat.

A loud curse suddenly made John frown. The man came sloping back into the front of the shop with his shoulders hanging slightly. John raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, sir. We only have one left and that's been reserved." The man apologised.

"To who?" John didn't want to have to bribe the shopkeeper but he knew at this time every other shop would be closed and he had to keep his promise to Mrs Hudson.

"Well, myself actually. My wife has been insisting on a new one."

"How much would it cost to unreserve it?" John asked while furrowing his brow in what would appear to be concentration.

"I'm not quite sure what you mean, sir." The man knew exactly what John was suggesting.

"To take the reserve off it. How much?" John sighed impatiently.

The man looked John up and down as if he was trying to figure out how much he could charge him, "Oh. I don't know. The price it will take to ship a new one in. Possibly £200 plus." The man said slowly to give the impression he was working out the price.

"If I pay an extra £200 the oven will be delivered and installed with the microwave and a cookbook of my choice. Tomorrow morning." John demanded firmly. He put on a face he usually reserved for stubborn consulting detectives.

The man thought for a minute before agreeing and shaking hands with John, "So the oven, microwave and a cookbook, delivery and installation? £900"

John shook his head, "No. Free installation."

"You're not in a position to barter, sir. All other shops will be closed for the night so your aim for the tomorrow morning installation will be completely blown out of the water." The man smirked slightly, pleased to get a one up on the professional looking businessman.

The doctor sighed again and pulled his BlackBerry out of his jacket pocket. He started typing swiftly on the small keypad, "I didn't want to go this route but I suppose, if needs must."

"What don't you want to do?" The man shifted nervously. He knew he had been attempting to rip John off slightly although he looked like he could afford it with his designer suit.

John ignored the man's questions. He mumbled to himself before making a small triumphant noise. The shop owner glanced around in panic. Scared that the overpriced police would jump out of a washing machine or something, john suspected.

"Yes," John muttered. "I wondered where I had heard the name "Chef's Kitchen Appliances" before."

"I'm sorry, sir? What do you mean?" The man behind the till stammered.

A dazzling smile suddenly sprang across John's face. He had his businessman persona on.

"Hi. I don't think we have ever been properly introduced. I'm John Watson of Watson Financial. I believe you have been speaking with one of my staff about your financial situation. I believe we were the only company to accept you for financial management." The soldier watched as the older man swallowed, "We don't do business with con-artists or criminals," That was a lie but the shopkeeper didn't know that. "And it looks to me like you were charging an awful lot just then. So let me ask you again. How much will that be?"

"How would £650 be for you, sir?" The owner asked as if he was trying to impress his mother. The man's wide smile made john feel sick. He was seriously attempting to please here.

"Yes. That will do perfectly." John smiled charmingly at the elder man.

The paperwork was quickly sighed, money agreed and products selected when John was heading out of the door. The small bell on the top of the door rang as John wrenched the wood away from the frame. The suited man stopped and turned to face the shop owner, "I normally only visit the larger businesses personally but I might start keeping a careful eye on you. Bye until tomorrow!"

He waved cheerfully before striding down the street. He didn't like using his power and money to get people to do things but it was for Mrs Hudson! That had to justify it.

He raced back to Baker Street and up into the flat. He sighed rolling his shoulders in a feeble attempt to relax. He looked at the clock and felt like sighing again. He held it in because he had been noticing recently that he has been sighing an awful lot. It was only a bit past 9 but he was tempted to go to bed early and just collapse on his bed.

He decided that it was the way to go so toed off his shoes and pulled himself up the stairs to his bedroom. He quickly slipped into his pyjamas before lying down on his bed and tugging the covers over himself. His last thought before drifting off was Hmm, Sherlock's home tomorrow. That'll be nice. I wonder how the case is going.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John prepares for Sherlocks return.

"John!" The sudden angry cry caused the doctor to shoot up into a sitting position in his bed. He yawned but all things considered he didn't feel too tired. The early night had done him good.

He cringed as he heard Mrs Hudson walking up the steps to his bedroom. He was tempted to hide but as he glanced around the room he realised it was the worst room ever for hiding. He had to sit and face Mrs Hudson's wrath.

Despite the elderly woman's anger, she still knocked before storming into the small room. John raised his eyebrows expectantly. He knew what she was going to be complaining about. The woman marched in and stood at the side of John's bed with her arms crossed.

"Dr John Watson! What are you playing at?" She raged.

He flopped back on the bed, "I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about!" John defended himself.

"The oven! The microwave! The cookbook!" She tapped her foot, waiting for an explanation.

"Has he installed it yet?" John asked calmly but Mrs Hudson could hear the slight excitement in his tone.

Mrs Hudson was slightly shocked by his sudden calmed attitude.

"U-um. Well, no. Not yet. I told him to wait while I spoke to you." She explained.

"Well tell him to get on with it. It cost more to have it delivered this morning. Let's get it ready for use by at least lunch, yes?" He smiled fondly at his landlady.

"That's my point! You can't go throwing your money around! You don't earn much as it is." She had just remembered why she was angry.

"Why don't you worry about baking me some nice scones to say thank you and I'll worry about how much it costs?" John chuckled lightly. Smiling up at the ceiling as he spoke kindly to his landlady. "Besides, Sherlock is home tonight and I doubt he has eaten anything in the last four days. You'll have to pull a hearty and delicious meal out of your sleeve to bring him back from the brink of starvation."

The elderly woman flapped her arms around a bit at the thought of being able to feed Sherlock up. John smiled knowingly.

"I'm still angry!" The landlady started to storm out of the room but she stopped just before she reached the door. "But I'll get him to install it. I will be making him send the microwave back with him though." She spoke firmly as she moved out of the doctor's room.

"I'll just buy you another one... and a television!" John called after her with a smile playing on his lips.

"Fine! I won't!" She shouted back. The soldier could hear her mumbling to herself about stubborn tenants as she continued down to her flat.

John chuckled and pulled himself out of bed. He lumbered to the bathroom where he looked at himself in the mirror while running a hand over his chin and down his neck, feeling the short stubble scratch against his palm.

He yawned before opening the cabinet and pulling out his razor. Today was going to be a busy day. At least Sherlock was coming home tonight.

-  
John's eyes flicked to his watch as he sat in a bright and open restaurant having a light lunch with a potential client. He had to admit he was bored out of his mind. The woman who sat in front of him and Lindsey seemingly wanted to share her financial life story when all John had asked was 'Is that a pea soup?'. The lunch had already run over by nearly 30 minutes. John held in the sigh that threatened to escape his thin lips. He needed to get back to sort out the flat for his detective's return from the case in the Welsh valleys. The doctor and genius hadn't been in contact as a result of the lack of signal Sherlock got out there. In some ways it was a relief to know he could get on with his work without being distracted. He wondered how the case was going since Sherlock didn't particularly want to take it but Mycroft had pressured him using blackmail and favours.

"Mr Watson?" John was suddenly extracted from his ponderings. "What do you think?"

The woman didn't show any indication whether the topic she was speaking about was good or bad. This caused John to have a dilemma. He could either just agree but risk offending the potential client or admit he wasn't listening. A jerking movement from Lindsey caught his eye. He looked over at the PA who was nodding her head, only enough so that you would notice if you were looking for the action.

"Yes, definitely." John spoke confidently. The woman who wouldn't shut up had a massive grin plastered across her face.

"Yes and the conclusion of that story. You were right! It is pea!" The woman was almost clapping her hands in delight. John resisted the urge to groan. He needed to get away.

A few hours later, John was out of his suit, which was now pushed to the very back of his wardrobe, and was slotting papers into their assigned folders. He stretched out his back. He had been sat cross legged on the floor of his room for the last hour and a half. The sigh of relief came when he noted that the pile of sheets were down to the last few. He quickly pushed them in before jumping up. He immediately regretted the action as pins and needles radiated throughout his feet. The soldier hopped from one foot to the other in an attempt to dull the pain.

John tried to ignore the pinching sensation as he pulled the folders into a large plastic bag. He dug to the back of his wardrobe leaving the important documentation underneath his old army boots. Lindsey would kill him if she could see how he was treating the vital files.

While he raced around London with Sherlock some of his staff will be taking care of the smaller businesses. Unfortunately, he would still have to attend the larger meetings. It was usually reasonably easy to slip away while Sherlock was absorbed in his mind palace. It was harder when the genius was only partially entertained by an experiment.

John wondered for a second whether Mycroft would come visiting and stick his large nose in his business. John knelt in front of his cupboard. He leant in so he could move his shoes and boxes around to hide the bag a little more so on first glance it looked like nothing. Sherlock often wondered why John didn't like him in his room. Sherlock thought it was something about personal space. It was actually to reduce the risk of the detective finding the documents.

John walked down the stairs and made his way to the kitchen where he boiled water for a cup of tea. All he had to do now was wait for his detective to return home.

Sherlock opened the front door silently. It was only the click of the latch that revealed the detective's presence to Mrs Hudson. As swift as a person half her age, the landlady swept out of her flat and grabbed Sherlock by the arm and pulled him back in.

Sherlock looked down at her in bewilderment. She dragged him through to the kitchen and pushed him down so he sat on one of the chairs by the table. The ebony haired man then dropped his small travel bag at the foot of the table. He had almost forgotten about it during his kidnapping by his landlady.

Sherlock watched in silence as the older woman started pulling pots and pans out of the cabinets. The genius frowned as she began to bring vegetables out of the fridge.

"What are you doing?" He asked as she began to lay out cutting boards and get knives out of drawers.

"I'm going to cook you supper." She said in a firm tone that demanded to be obeyed.

Sherlock's brow furrowed further, "John and I had planned on ordering a take away from the chinese."

"Well, take out is expensive. You boys have it so often. I can't begin to imagine how much it is costing."

"What do you mean? I've never had any problems with paying for it."

"You might not, dear. Have you thought about John? He only takes occasional hospital shifts and doesn't have a wealthy big brother to help him on his way." Mrs Hudson sent about slicing potatoes with determination.

"Mrs Hudson! Please will you stop beating around the bush and just tell me what you are worried about. Don't deny it. I can tell you are worried." Sherlock was getting close to snapping at the woman.

"It's John, dear. I think he has got himself into some financial trouble." The elderly woman turned to face one of her boys.

"You mean debt," It wasn't a question but Mrs Hudson nodded anyway. "Are you sure? I've seen none of the typical signs of someone in debt."

"I'm sure, Sherlock. I stumbled upon his bank statement while I was cleaning some sheets of paper up. Also, I haven't seen him eat a proper meal since you left. I think he was trying to save money." The landlady's voice dripped with concern and worry. "He will have to move away from London if he is."

She looked down at the consulting detective but he was staring at her new oven with a puzzled expression, "Where did you get that?" His eyes darted around the kitchen. "And this?" He pointed at the matching red microwave. The genius leapt up and darted over to the bookshelf full of cookbooks. He pulled one out with just his thumb and forefinger. "And this?" He almost sounded disgusted.

The woman sighed, "John got them for me. I tried to refuse but he threatened me."

Sherlock's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, "John? He threatened you?" Mrs Hudson could hear the anger boiling in the man's voice.

"No, dear! He threatened to buy me more things if I refused." She quickly tried to correct herself. "He said I do enough for you two. It feels like he is trying to prove to himself that he can spend money." She sounded sympathetic towards the poor doctor.

"Okay," Sherlock smiled fondly at his landlady. "I'll make sure that he will be more careful with his money."

The detective didn't want to be responsible for John and his debt but it was what Mrs Hudson wanted him to say.

"I'll order a take away and send the bill to my brother. It can be his treat." Despite what Sherlock expected Mrs Hudson smiled and nodded in agreement. She began to pack away all the cook utensils as the genius left her small flat.

Sherlock ran up the stairs and burst into the living room. He was about to shout 'I'm home!' when something caught his eye. He looked over to John's chair where the doctor was sleep with his head falling back and light snores were escaping his mouth.

Sherlock took the opportunity to study the short man. He looked exhausted. The detective estimated he had lost 1 or 2 pounds of weight since he had gone. This surprised him because the blogger was always lecturing him about eating well. For the first time since he spoke to Mrs Hudson he considered her theory of debt actually being true. It would explain why he didn't eat while Sherlock was gone.

"John?" Sherlock shook the soldier's good shoulder.

John blinked up at the detective in an attempt to remove the sleep from his eyes. It took him a second before he realised that it was Sherlock stood in front of him.

"Oh Sherlock!" John yawned. "You're home! How was the case?" The soldier asked enthusiastically.

The sociopath huffed, "Wet and miserable. I had to work with incompetent idiots who couldn't tell the difference between a ..." The tall man let his voice trail off as he suddenly noticed something.

"There has been a woman here." A frowning Sherlock lent forward and pulled a fairly long blonde hair from the back of John's chair. The blogger swallowed nervously. Sherlock then plucked a long blonde hair from John's cheap jumper.

The detective frowned down at John. He needed more data and immediately.

John's eyes darted around the flat in a desperate search for anything to create a plausible excuse.

"Umm... It was just a one night stand, Sherlock. No need to worry." The doctor pushed himself up from the chair and swiftly left for the kitchen. Unfortunately for the shorter man, Sherlock followed him. The detective studied the other man's every move. John hurried around the genius pulling together two mugs of steaming tea.

"Shall I order take away?" The soldier asked with a small smile trying to stop the detective inspecting him.

Sherlock remembered Mrs Hudson's words of advice, "Yes but I'll pay."

John raised a surprised eyebrow.

"What?" Sherlock questioned. "I got paid while on the case and it also looks like you need to get a proper meal into you so please order extra." Sherlock stated.

"What do you mean? I need to get a proper meal into me?" The doctor was thoroughly confused. He had been eating while Sherlock was away but he had been so busy he must have burnt most of the calories. The lunches he had with clients were usually light as well.

"It's obvious that you haven't had any full meal in a while."

"Well, I guess I've been busy." The soldier mumbled partly to himself.

Within an hour, Sherlock was settled back home, they had eaten till they felt sick and John was now heading up to bed.

After changing into his pyjama bottoms John slipped into his bed. The doctor opened up the drawer on the bedside table and retrieved his business BlackBerry from the bottom. John did this every night. He would check to see when the next meetings were so he could tell Sherlock he was going to the pub on that day.

On the device was a message from Lindsey with all the latest from the business side of his life. She was a saint. He pondered whether he paid her enough and if a raise would be wise. He quickly decided that he would give her a raise by the end of the month.

He didn't worry about his businesses while he was chasing criminals because he had a crack team of people in charge of each sector. They were all experts in that field. He sighed in satisfaction.

Although, Mrs Hudson and Sherlock had been acting strange. John decided that he would find the cause of the oddities tomorrow. For now, he needed a good night's sleep.

-  
A consulting detective dashing into the room at an ungodly time woke the doctor. All I wanted was one night's sleep, he silently muttered to himself.

John pushed himself onto his elbows and watched in surprise as the lanky genius flopped, face down, next to him on the bed with a huff into the pillow. John raised an eyebrow.

"We've got a case, John" The detective's voice was muffled by the pillow but it still sounded exasperated.

"Isn't that a good thing?" The soldier was confused by his friend's behaviour.

"No." The sociopath muttered miserably and as a form of explanation he said, "Mycroft." The sneering detective made no move to get up from his position as John looked down at him.

John sighed. This is going to be hard work.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a hostage situation... With a surprise.

John let himself collapse back onto his bed. Why has Sherlock woken me up if he isn't going to bother with the case?

The detective didn't move so John thought it was best to prod the taller man. The resulting grumbling only reassured the doctor that his flatmate wasn't dead but it didn't help him work out what the genius was actually doing.

"Sherlock? Don't you have a case?" The doctor leant his head to the side in a questioning manner.

The ebony haired man began to mumble into the pillow obviously explaining something.

"What?"

Sherlock turned his head to face John, "I said it's a hostage situation. Mycroft said that you'd be interested and then he blackmailed me into taking it."

"Why didn't you just say no?"

"I'm NOT going to mummy's for Christmas." The detective said firmly and folded his arms.

"Okay then... Wait. Why would I be interested?" John asked suddenly confused. A frown spread across his face.

"I don't know. I thought it was something to do with you being sentimental and caring but Mycroft told me to just show you the footage." Sherlock mumbled while looking down at his nails.

A few seconds passed.

"Are you going to show me the footage then?" The shorter man asked sharply.

When Sherlock just grunted, John brought his foot up and pushed hard on the detective's hip causing the thin man to fall onto the floor with a loud thump.

"Awwwwhhh! John!" The sociopath whined from the floorboards.

The doctor ignored the man and instead set about pulling himself out of bed. He pulled on a warm robe and kicked Sherlock with the tip of his toe as he walked past. The detective leapt up from the floor and raced down the stairs ahead of John, only to throw himself dramatically onto the sofa.

"Tea?" The doctor called from the kitchen.

"Yeah!" The detective replied quickly.

John was back a few minutes later with two steaming cups of tea. Sherlock held his hand out to receive the mug. The doctor rolled his eyes at the man's lack of social skills and basic manners. He pushed the detective's legs off the sofa so he could sit next to the man. He sighed then turned to look at the detective who was glaring at the ceiling.

"So...?" John started awkwardly. "This footage then..."

Sherlock blinked slowly a few times up at the ceiling before looking down at John. The detective stared in silence and the doctor couldn't help but think he had spoken in an alien language. The silence dragged on and the soldier was beginning to feel uncomfortable under Sherlock's intense scrutiny. John opened his mouth to speak but the quiet seem to press on his vocal chords making it impossible to utter a single word. The blogger swallowed and closed his mouth staring back at the genius in bewilderment.

Suddenly, Sherlock shot up from where he was previously motionless and leapt over to his desk to retrieve his laptop. John jumped at the sudden movement. His eyes followed the sociopath in confusion.

Sherlock quickly placed his computer on the coffee table and opened the lid. The modern device bleeped almost immediately to life. John watched as the detective's nimble violinist fingers found the file and pulled it up onto the screen.

The doctor lifted his mug towards his lips as the video footage crackled to life. Having already seen the video, the detective leant back so he could steeple his hands under his chin and stare off into space again.

There were two men currently on the screen wearing dark face masks to conceal their identity. They yelled something at the person holding the camera who then took the aim of the camera off them. The next few seconds of footage was just of scuffed black trainers and concrete floor as John could hear the men scurrying around.

"Not very well prepared for terrorists." The soldier mumbled to himself. He had encountered terrorist before and they had seemed like the type of people who are always ready and prepared.

Sherlock barely registered his flatmate's comment. His attention was lost in the large halls of his mind palace.

John watched the bad quality film as the camera was waved around the room. The soldier was about to sigh at the lack of professionalism when his breath suddenly caught in his throat. A familiar face was in the line of the camera. The tea cup slipped out of John's hand and shattered on the floor but even that sound couldn't drag his eyes away from the scared face on the computer screen.

Lindsey.

Her breaths were coming in pained gasps and a dark bruise was forming beneath her eye. Lindsey's eyes darted around the room looking at each of her captors in terror.

John could feel himself tensing up. He was so focused on the face of his kind and friendly PA that he wasn't listening to the demands the captors were making. John could feel the anger boiling in side himself. He tried to do the deep breathing exercises prescribed by his therapist but abandoned the soothing action. He was going to let his anger rage out. I am going to kill those men, his mind seethed.

John stood with a strong posture. Sherlock snapped out of his mind palace when John stood up. He could clearly see that the ex-soldier had slipped easily into his military stance. He watched as John marched swiftly out of the room. The doctor was going up to his bedroom and it was obvious, even to the sociopath, that the man was upset.

The detective's brow furrowed as he looked at the blonde woman on the small screen. He didn't recognise her so why should John and how did Mycroft know she was involved with John in the first place?

The detective steepled his fingers in front of his mouth and prepared to analyse the data. Who was this woman?!

He was sinking deeper into his mind palace when there was a loud crash from upstairs. The sociopath released a deep frustrated sigh and pushed himself up towards John's bedroom to see what the fuss was about. Was it about this woman?

The detective hadn't had time to think about John and the woman. The lack of data was beginning to get on the man's nerves. He hadn't yet considered simply asking John.

He paced up the stairs until he was standing directly outside John's closed door. He knocked firmly on the painted wood and waited for a response. As he waited he closed his eyes so he could listen as drawers were being opened, paper chucked around the room and texts buzzing in on a mobile phone.

Sherlock's eyes suddenly snap open. He immediately fell into his mind palace. He doesn't recognise that buzzing because John doesn't ever put his phone on silent. Mentally, Sherlock walks back down the stairs and recounts what is down there. He opens his eyes again when his recalls that John's phone had been left in the kitchen the night before. So what phone was buzzing?

The buzzing was almost non-stop as the mysterious phone received text after text after text or possibly, email after email after email. The detective simply couldn't deduce.

"John?" Sherlock called after growing impatient even though he had knocked only seconds before.

"What?!" John's voice was muffled by something in his mouth. Sherlock's mind worked over time. Fabric. Previously in his room. Getting dressed. Comfortable enough to answer me so decent. Socks? Not in the mouth. Tie? John didn't wear ties although once you have eliminated all the possibilities whatever remains no matter how improbable must be the truth.

Sherlock pushed John's door open and strode in. He stopped when he saw John. He was wearing an expensive suit that was perfectly tailored to his body shape. He opened his mouth to speak but John's mobile phone started ringing. The soldier obviously knew that the detective was in the room but chose to ignore him and his curious expression.

The doctor started speaking into his phone ten to the dozen, "What? No! I said it was! Yes, Thames Green! Well, I don't know! How am I supposed to know? One minute, I'll ask my flatmate."

Sherlock looked up at John's face when he was mentioned. Unfortunately for him the doctor didn't have time for his questions, "Sherlock, those terrorists. What did they want?" The soldier's tone demanded an answer and straight away.

The sociopath stood frozen. Unsure of what was actually going on.

"Uhhh… Ummm. M-money." The ebony haired man stuttered.

"Yes. Thank you, Captain Obvious." The doctor snapped at his friend sarcastically.

Sherlock shook himself out of the daze and instead focused on telling John what he wanted to know.

"£500,000 I think. Give or take a few hundred thousand."

John turned away to speak into his phone, "Hold on a second, Jonathan. I'm going to put my Bluetooth on." The man on the other side of the line clearly understood what the doctor meant because Sherlock could hear him fall silent and await further instruction.

The blogger marched to his drawer and pulled out an expensive earpiece and slipped the sleek device onto his ear.

"Jonathan? Right. Yes, I'm back. £500,000 or more?"

Sherlock watched this man who seemed completely alien to him. This wasn't the Doctor Watson he knew. The poor little retired army doctor had just been replaced by a smooth talking, affluent businessman who didn't even flinch at colossal amounts of money. Who was this man and what did he do with John?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets an insight into John's world.

"Well, yes." John continued his conversation as he bent down to tie the laces on his expensive shoes.

Sherlock still stared at the man in front of him in confusion. The doctor had changed as soon as that mysterious woman had appeared on the screen. The sociopath didn't move. He stood frozen still.

Why didn't I see this coming? How did he hide this from me? Sherlock's eyes glanced around the room and suddenly every piece of evidence fell into place. The way he pulled his coat on to the way his glaze lingered on the finer quality brands in the supermarket.

The detective snapped out of his sudden realisation as the suited man pushed past him in a hurry. As John was running down the stairs he called over his shoulder to his flatmate.

"Are you coming or are you just going to stand there?" Sherlock didn't move as John's voice echoed around the flat.

The genius opened his mouth to ask where but the closing of the flat door made him forget his question to instead leap down the stairs to reach John before he got into a cab. He couldn't be left behind. 

He was shocked once again when he ran out onto the pavement to see John climbing into a sleek black town car. Mycroft? Sherlock cursed to himself. Did he know about this?

The doctor left the car door open for the detective to slide in next to him. Sherlock sat in the plush leather seat and looked around the car in shock. Had Mycroft sent this?

John leant forward and spoke swiftly to the driver. With a few words they were off driving deep into London.

"Where are we going?" The sociopath asked once he had gathered his scattered thoughts.

John looked up from where he was frantically typing into his BlackBerry. He wondered if it would be worth lying but knew that the other man would see straight through whatever false tale he made up.

"My office." John answered firmly. He didn't want to explain further so hoped desperately that Sherlock would leave it there.

The genius frowned as the data rattled around in his head. Why hadn't he seen this before? It all seemed to obvious now! The way the doctor held his phone to the way he chucked his cheap clothes about carelessly. It all seem to be screaming at him now. The evidence seemed blindingly clear.

"Who knows about this?" Sherlock asked while gazing out of the window.

John looked over again and withheld a sigh, "Mycroft."

The sociopath looked across at him in disgust. Why would anyone choose to tell Mycroft?

"I didn't choose to tell him. He stuck his nose in where it isn't wanted." The blond man explained after seeing the hate on his flatmate's face.

The taller man turned to look out of the tinted window. He needed time to think this over but he didn't get the time because next thing he knew they were pulling up outside a large building that was mostly made of glass. It was tall and Sherlock had seen the building before but just thought nothing of it.

John strode up the steps in front of the tower and began to speak into his ear piece. The detective followed behind his friend so he could watch him closely.

The doctor was now radiating authority and confidence as he got closer to the large doors. Sherlock stumbled close behind him.

The inside of the building was all white and glass which gave it a professional minimalism. There were two large desks with a blonde and a brunette sat behind them. Sherlock took in the desks and the headsets and automatically thought- Receptionist. On one side of the desks there was stairs leading up to the next floor. On the other side was a elevator. John strode towards the lift and the brunette receptionist raised her head to see who was entering the building.

She immediately leapt out of her seat and rushed over to the lift. She pressed the button that called the elevator down and stood waiting for her boss to get closer.

"Morning, Mr Watson." The receptionist chirped cheerfully. Sherlock looked down at John in surprise when the doctor didn't correct the woman.

"Morning." He answered quickly, stepping into the open lift. The brunette woman slipped in and clicked the top button.

The elevator began to glide up when the woman spoke, "No Lindsey today, sir?"

"Unfortunately not." He answered then his mobile started ringing. He swiftly clicked the button on the side of his ear piece.

"Watson." The soldier stated with a professional air. "...What?"

Sherlock looked over to the short man but John ignored him. The brunette woman was also looking at John but she swiftly turned away when the detective caught her gaze.

"How much?" John rubbed the back of his neck. "God. Why did they change it? ...How did they find that out?!"

The doctor let out a frustrated huff of breath as the person on the other end answered.

"Well, yes. Of course. We do have enough. Are you coming? Okay. 10 minutes?" John clicked the small button on his Bluetooth ear piece and sighed.

"Everything alright?" The sociopath asked curiously.

"Not really. Obviously our main priority is to get Lindsey back but-"

"Lindsey?" Sherlock questioned. "Oh! The woman in the video."

"Right. As I was saying, our main priority is to get her back but if they keep raising the price we won't be able to pay." The blond man rubbed his hand down his face.

"And I'm assuming we aren't here to get a loan."

The receptionist suddenly turned to Sherlock, "Although, if you want one we do cater."

The ebony haired man looked down at the woman in confusion. Why is she even here? He pondered. She continued to gaze up at him with a cheerful smile which was frankly annoying.

"Lindsey is being held hostage." John stated to nobody in particular.

The brunette gasped and rushed into the large open office as the doors opened. She flapped her arms around in shock. Her mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish. John stared at his employee wondering if there was a polite way of saying sod off.

"I think we can manage from now on. Thank you, Suzy." John motioned towards the elevator with a graceful smile. The woman blushed and quickly scampered out of the room and into the lift. Within seconds the two men were alone in the large and open office.

The office was full of whites and creams. The only dark colour came from John's large mahogany desk which sat in front of one of the glass walls.

A tense silence filled the room. John knew that Sherlock had questions.

"So," The detective said while peering out of the window down on to London. They were pretty high up, on the top floor. "Which floors are yours?"

The suited man stopped pacing the floor and looked up.

"What?"

"The building." John nodded slowly to show he was following. "Which floors belong to your company?"

"Haven't you deduced it?" The soldier smirked slightly and moved over to the large desk to sit on the comfortable chair.

"I haven't had a chance to look around!" Sherlock snapped defensively.

"Well, I've got to wait until Carlson comes up so why not do it now." The doctor tapped his fingers along the large desk. He watched as Sherlock walked over to the elevator doors and inspected the buttons that called the lift up. He the looked at the doors of the elevator.

"Most?" He asked sceptically.

"All." John stated without showing pride or embarrassment.

Sherlock felt his eyebrow raising involuntarily.

The blond man sighed and swirled around in his chair so he was facing the glass wall behind him. He pointed at a nearby building that was only a bit shorter than the one they were in.

"And that one." He turned to face Sherlock again with a face that said challenge me.

The detective opened his mouth but nothing came out. Suddenly the elevator doors behind him glided open and the sociopath clicked his jaw shut.

The tall man who exited the lift had sleek glasses and dark hair. He looked like a cheerful man despite the frown that was decorating his lips. Sherlock's eyes scanned the man's body. He obviously worked for John and spent a lot of time at a desk. An American, Sherlock deduced silently.

"Carlson." John greeted quickly.

"Mr Watson." The man nodded at his boss.

"So they somehow got a hold of our finances and raised the ransom." The doctor stated with a frown. Carlson nodded.

"How much now?" The consulting detective asked curious to see how much John could afford. It would obviously be a lot but he wanted a figure.

Carlson and John turned to Sherlock and said at the same time, "1.5 Million."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They work to rescue Lindsey.

The sociopath looked on surprised as neither man flinched at the gigantic number they had just spoken. They waited for him to reply but no words could form on his tongue. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before giving up. The Great Sherlock Holmes was speechless.

Sherlock paced over to the glass window and looked out at the large city. He was embarrassed that he had become speechless and was attempting to take the focus off himself.

John gestured for his employee to sit opposite him at the desk. They talked for half an hour before Carlson's BlackBerry started ringing. He answered the phone swiftly and professionally. The man uttered quietly into the phone and Sherlock angled himself away from the glass, trying to hear what the stranger was saying.

There was a small sofa placed in the far corner of the office and Sherlock shuffled over to it. He was feeling awkward and in the way. Why has John asked me to come?

The soldier's employee had just returned to his seat when John's BlackBerry suddenly rang. The suited man clicked his ear piece on and listened as the person on the other end spoke.

"Ok." Was all John said before clicking his ear piece off again.

The doctor turned to Carlson and spoke swiftly, "They are on their way up with the new video."

Sherlock's eyebrows rose even though he wasn't technically supposed to be part of the conversation. John was looking over at him and smiled slightly at the detective's eavesdropping. He really knew Sherlock too well. 

The doctor then looked down at the papers on his desk and huffed out with frustration. He needed to get Lindsey back safely and soon.

The doctor was pacing the floor by the time 3 large men strode out of the elevator.

"Sorry we're late, sir. The receptionist insisted we signed in." The tallest man said to John while pulling a chair up to the soldier's desk. The doctor nodded that he understood before nodding to Carlson to sort that out. Carlson got up quickly and hurried over to the other side of the room where he called the receptionist and told her to ignore all sign in procedures. The blond doctor only watched the exchange for a minute before he turned back to the men who were sat around his desk. He held out a demanding hand and the men passed over a disk without a word of instruction.

The doctor swiftly made his way over to a large screen TV that was hanging on the wall. He slipped the disk into the back and moved away from the TV so he could have a good view.

All the men in the room peered up at the TV as the image crackled to life. John held the remote tightly in his hand as the face of his PA was shown on the screen. She had bruises forming on the right side of her face. Her eyelid was swollen so bad on one side that it would be impossible to see out of. She was breathing quickly and had dark lines down her face where her mascara had run. She looked into the camera lens in desperation.

That was then a thick London accent spoke over the sound of Lindsey's broken sobs and heavy breathing.

"1.5 Million or she gets hurt even worse." The voice sneered and the personal assistant flinched.

John swallowed and could feel his chest rising and falling quickly in fury. If they even touch a hair on her head, he thought darkly.

The doctor then turned on his heel and began to rapidly pace while obviously trying to push his anger down. No man would dare interrupt this on fear of being seriously hurt... but we forget, We have Sherlock Holmes in the room.

"Are you going to pay?" As Sherlock asked, Carlson and the three well-built men quickly look over and him and start frantically shaking their heads in a warning to stop. It was too late. The detective had already disrupted the fuming businessman.

John turned sharply on the detective and stared at him before screaming out, "Well, no! You fucking idiot! I was going to leave her to rot!" The sarcasm was clear to everyone in the room, including Sherlock.

The doctor gave the genius a deathly look before turning on his heel and pacing even faster than before. After a few more seconds of fuming the blond man suddenly stopped and span so he was facing the large TV on the wall. The anger was radiating off the small man when he launched the small remote he had been squeezing towards the TV.

A loud crack echoed around the room. The slim television now had a large smash directly in the centre. Credit where credit is due, John certainly has a good aim, Sherlock thought.

The doctor glared down at the floor as his shoulders slowly relaxed. The tension was gently ebbing away and John was gaining control of his business self again. The doctor walked stiffly over to the intercom which was positioned on his large desk. He pressed on one of the small buttons that was on the sleek machine. The intercom buzzed softly to signal that John had got through to the department.

"What?" The woman on the other end asked rudely. She obviously didn't realise that it was her furious boss on the other end.

"Yes. Hello. I need a new flat screen... as soon as possible." John said flatly, not impressed with the woman's attitude.

"Which department?" She spoke back with added attitude still not realising that it was Mr Watson on the other end.

"I don't have a department." John said just to annoy her.

"For goodness sake," She muttered away from the intercom but the people in the room still heard it. She came back onto the communication system. "Fine. Where should I have it delivered to?"

"Head office." The doctor said firmly in his captain voice. Sherlock's eyebrows rose; John very rarely used that tone of voice.

The woman went quiet on the other end, "And when would you like that to-" Her stuttering was interrupted.

"As soon as possible." He clicked the intercom quickly so it closed off. He could be bothered to listen to her any longer.

"Okay," John turned to the small group that had gathered around his desk. "Where are they?"

"In a warehouse on Thames Road." The largest of the men spoke gently, still in fear of an outburst from John.

"Shit," The blogger muttered to himself. The other men suddenly became more interested.

The detective looked over from where he was sat over by the window. He recognised that tone. It sounded like John knew the place. Why would John know where the criminals where? His eyes widened as it suddenly dawned on him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their way to rescue Lindsey!

"Mr Watson?" Carlson enquired cautiously. That was not the response that he had expected from his boss.

John moved over to his plush leather chair and fell into it. He drummed his fingers on the large desk as all eyes were on him. His lips were set in a firm line as he stared up at the broken TV. After nearly a minute of aimless staring, John leapt up and strode towards the elevator.

"Are you coming?" He called out to nobody in particular.

"We don't know which warehouse they are in!" The three large men protested.q

John reached the elevator as the doors opened. He carried on inside and turned to look at the men. They were watching him with uneasy suspense. They knew what he did but often tried to ignore the fact that he did it. Working with criminals wasn't always something that John let everyone know about.

Sherlock's eyes got even wider as he realised what John did. He fought crime but also helped it. It didn't make sense to the detective.

"Good thing I know." John said firmly.

His men looked around slightly confused. They weren't sure whether to refuse to help a person who works with criminals or run to save Lindsey. In the end the decision was easy. They may not agree with what their boss does but Lindsey was a sweet and kind girl who didn't deserve what she was being put through.

One by one the men rose from their places around John's desk and shuffled over to the elevator. John knew that they would come. He knew they just needed time to think about what was right.

Within a couple of minutes all of John's men were stood in the lift ready to go. The businessman stepped forward to press the down button but froze when he saw Sherlock watching him from across the room. He made eye contact with the detective for a fraction of a second before jerking his head in a signal for the man to join them.

Elegantly, Sherlock rose from where he was sat and strutted across the large office to the lift. He slipped inside without a word to anyone.

John pressed the button to go down and silently the elevator glided down to the reception area. The silence was tense and full of suspense. No one knew what to say or even whether they wanted to speak at all. The doctor was the first person to stride out of the lift and he was closely flanked by the other men.

Sherlock had figured out why John had taken him with him. It was to explain what he did without having to actually say anything. The detective could see why John had done this. It would save them both the humiliation of explaining it. Smart move.

The receptionists looked up in surprise as the large group of men made their way through the light area. They immediately picked up on the tension that was flowing through the group and wisely decided to look down at their computers quickly. They were not going to get themselves fired by running over and interrupting whatever was going on.

John led the way out of the reception area and onto the busy pavement outside. Three dark cars were waiting on the curb and Sherlock briefly wondered when they had been called. The group of men split up so that there were two men in each town car. John made sure that the lanky genius was with him. They pushed past the pedestrians and got into the cars.

The car ride started out in an awkward silence as they headed towards their destination. John knew that Sherlock was staring at him but didn't want to face the questions that were bound to come flooding his way. Unfortunately, Sherlock didn't really care whether John wanted to co-operate or not.

"How long?" The genius asked simply.

"I started a year or two before Afghanistan but obviously stopped while out there. I still owned a few of the businesses but put some other people in charge then when I returned I took it up again."

"So you've been doing this while I'm away on cases?" Sherlock didn't want to admit it but he was slightly impressed with how well John had hidden it.

"Whenever you're not around I would be doing meetings and appointments." The blond man continued to stare aimlessly out of the window.

"And you earn a lot of money?"

John squinted suspiciously out of the window, "A bit."

"And Lindsey is your..."

"PA. A very good one as well."

"And we are going to rescue her?" Sherlock asked.

John turned with a small smile on his lips, "Yeah."

They made eye contact and grinned at each other. That is when Sherlock knew that things didn't have to change. He knew that they wouldn't change because John craved the adrenaline rush that he provided. They both needed each other. 

The doctor leant forward and pulled a hand gun out of a small drawer. He felt the weight of it in his hand and he knew that he had missed this while Sherlock had been off on his case.

John looked up as the car began to slow. They had arrived at their destination and he was going to make the men pay.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Warehouse, they set about rescuing Lindsey.

John's shoes clicked softly on the concrete floor. The overpowering smell of dirty water was everywhere and the damp air caught in the back of Sherlock's throat. He felt like coughing but he knew that one noise could jeopardise the whole mission.

After stepping out of the car, John had immediately turned into Captain Watson. He had taken the lead and has remained there ever since.

Sherlock followed closely behind John as they ran quietly down one of the long concrete corridors. John had sent two of the others around the back while Carlson waited outside with the remaining man. It was their job to watch out for anyone entering or leaving the building. Carlson fidgeted restlessly with his mobile phone. He was ready to call the police at any second if something went wrong.

John's eyes quickly scanned over each room as they passed it to make sure that all the men were where he expected them to be, the room furthest away from the front door and closest to the back exit. The doctor moved swiftly along the corridor and as they got closer even the heels on his expensive shoes seem to recognise that this was a tense situation where silence was required.

The dark bulbs that hung overhead almost seemed to be mocking the detective as his eyes craved the light that they were refusing to provide. Sherlock glanced back over his shoulder to see how far from the entrance they had come. They were further in then he had expected. The sociopath turned his head just in time to see John skid to a standstill. The detective stopped centimetres way from the man. Had he stopped any slower then he would have ploughed straight into him.

The man with ebony curls glanced around the dull and dark concrete corridor to see why John had come to a halt. There was nobody to be seen and his brow furrowed in bewilderment.

"Why have we stopped?" Sherlock whispered as quietly as he could but still allowing the suited businessman to hear him.

"Shhh." The detective had barely gotten the words out before the leading man had silenced him.

The sharp hush echoed along the walls of the dank building. Sherlock watched as the blogger physically winced. Any noise could reveal their position. The majority of the rooms that they passed were empty but it didn't stop the ex-soldier from tensing every time they ran passed another one.

Sherlock glanced around again but still couldn't see anyone. It was dark but his eyes had adjusted enough to see most of his surroundings. He was about to ask again when John whispered to him.

"Can you hear that?" The blond doctor asked quietly. Sherlock stopped thinking about their surroundings and listened, truly listened, for the first time. The silence was deafening.

"No." Hissed back the consulting detective.

John closed his eyes and began to slowly walk onwards for a little while. This is insane, Sherlock thought. Never the less, he followed his leader as he turned down a smaller corridor. This one was darker and damper. Sherlock didn't trust this new one. It seemed to reek of suspicion and crime (if a wall could even smell like crime, this one did).

The detective was unsure about the way John was leading them. The soldier had said before that the terrorists would be near the exit but John was taking them further and further towards the centre.

They were about 50 metres from the main corridor when John's eyes snapped open again. He looked over at Sherlock in a silent signal for him to listen. The detective obeyed and closed his eyes to focus and really strain to hear whatever John could hear.

Suddenly, he heard it. The sound of quiet voices echoed, whispering in the distance. Sherlock opened his eyes and stared down at John, bewildered. How had he been able to hear that from over 100 metres away?!

The doctor gave Sherlock a sharp nod before moving closer to the voices. John pulled his BlackBerry smoothly out of his jacket pocket and almost tutted when the device showed him that there was no signal inside the large box of concrete. The doctor now had no way of communicating with the other men trying to rescue Lindsey.

How on earth did I get caught up in this? Sherlock pondered.

The blogger led them to an old wooden door which was almost falling apart. The voices were very clear now that they were closer to the source. Sherlock made a rough estimation, 3 or 4 men inside.

The businessman pulled the gun out of his waistband and pulled the cold metal handle of the door. It opened, thankfully, without a sound and the two men stepped through the open door silently.

They had entered a large room with a small corridor of maybe about 2 or 3 metres to get to the main area. John shuffled against the wall before smoothly sliding along till he was at the corner where the corridor met the main room. This room was as dank and damp as the other rooms and corridors but the old bulbs in this room had been forced to produce light although many weren't actually working so the room was still slightly dark. The stench of urine made it hard to swallow and John's eyes were watering slightly as a result of the strong ammonia. There were large crates stacked around the room which were probably used as chairs or to lean on. Between the wall and crates was a gap just under a metre wide. John knew that he could easily run behind there without being caught especially because many of the crates were tall so would conceal the doctor without trouble.

The only challenge would be running from one bunch of crates to the next. The greying blond man rubbed his chin as the possibilities flashed across his mind.

He edged closer to the corner and peered around carefully. Sherlock knew when he had spotted Lindsey because the muscles in the soldier's back tensed.

She was shivering on the floor. Lindsey had been tied to the wall on the opposite side to where John was. Her face was bruised and her left eye was swollen shut. He other eye was closed out of fear. Blood had run from her forehead and down the woman's cheek. The blood was beginning to dry and stick in clumps. Blood splattered on her blouse showed that she had been hit so hard that it had caused a nose bleed. Lindsey had her knees pulled up close to her body in an attempt to protect herself. The fury blazed through John like a wild fire and he quickly darted behind the first stack of crates.

The 4 thugs were all facing Lindsey so the first sprint for John was relatively easy. The doctor studied the men. Only one had a gun and he was stood furthest away from the PA. The other 3 men had obviously been using brute force to frighten the woman.

John nearly cried out as a hand closed down on his shoulder. He glanced around swiftly to see that it was only Sherlock. The detective gave a firm nod and John nodded back.

The doctor pulled a silencer out of his pocket with a satisfied smile. He connected it quietly with the main gun and rested his hands on one of the crates so that his hands had a steady platform. He couldn't afford to miss.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John rescues Lindey.

John took a deep breath and applied pressure to the trigger. The bullet flew out of the gun and buried itself in it's destination.

The thug fell back and the gun, that he had been holding, clattered on the floor. Luckily, for John, the other three men were being too loud to hear the noise as they were yelling. The doctor looked over at the men and watched silently for a few moments while the men laughed and joked, they hadn't noticed their friend lying dead on the floor yet.

The three remaining men were crowding around the shaking PA and laughing. John leant his head until he heard a soft click. These men were going to pay.

John stepped around the large crates without a sound. The goons still had their backs to the businessman and hadn't even realised he was there. Sherlock followed the doctor's lead and moved out into the room. The sociopath stepped around the pool of blood and retrieved the hand gun from the floor beside the dead man.

John stood in a dominate stance with his gun held in front of him threateningly. Sherlock mimicked his position and held the gun, he had just taken from the dead man, in front of him. A smirk slipped onto John's face.

"Evening, gentlemen." He said with a smoothness that Sherlock had never witnessed come out of the small doctor before.

The goons whirled around and their eyes widened when they saw the blogger and sociopath. Their eyes searched for their armed friend and widened when they final saw him lying lifeless on the floor in a puddle of crimson blood. The men's shoulders physically dropped as they gave up on the fight that hadn't even started. The ex-soldier was slightly surprised by their lack of optimism. All the men's eyes were focused on their dead fellow kidnapper. John noticed where their gazes were so slowly lowered his gun.

"Don't worry, gents." John saw hope bloom in their chests and quickly continued what he was saying. "You'll be joining him soon enough."

Sherlock was shocked by the doctor's words, although he didn't show it on his face. He kept his steely cold mask firmly in place. He kept his weapon pointing towards the thugs as John stepped passed them to see to his PA.

Within seconds, John had established that Lindsey needed to visit the hospital.

"Sherlock?" The doctor asked while looking up at the genius. "Please take Lindsey to Carlson. Get him to take her to the hospital straight away."

The detective started to guide the woman out of the room when he turned John, "Aren't you coming?"

"No, Sherlock. I need to have a little conversation with our friends here." The soldier gesture back to the shocked men. They were still stood frozen in their places.

Sherlock tried to hurry the woman along. He knew what would be coming next and he felt that it would be better to get Lindsey away from it. They were only halfway out when the first cry echoed through the dark corridors. Lindsey flinched and huddled closer into the tall man who was guiding her out. Sherlock didn't want this contact but he knew that John would prefer it if his assistant didn't go further into shock.

There was a loud cry again and Sherlock hurried the weak woman along. He needed to get her away from the noises. She stumbled and tripped but, with Sherlock's assistance, they kept moving forward towards the door.

They reached the door as another pained scream came from within the building. Sherlock swallowed and looked over his shoulder down the concrete corridor. He pushed the heavy front door open and stepped out into the gorgeous fresh air. He welcomed the air into his lungs like a forgotten friend. The light, on the other hand, assaulted his eyes causing him to wince. The warehouse had been so dark and dank that outside seemed to burn his eyes.

There was a sudden sound of movement and Sherlock forced his eyes open, ready to face the oncoming danger. He closed his eyes again when he saw that it was only one of John's men. There was lots of shouting and scuttling around as the weak woman was pulled from his secure grasp and into Carlson's arms. The woman tried to look up at the genius through her swollen cheeks and face.

"Get her to the hospital!" Sherlock called out as Lindsey was put into an awaiting black town car and whisked away.

Sherlock gazed lazily into the distance, feeling all heroic, until he noticed that someone had been asking him a question for the last minute. The sociopath raised an eyebrow at the man who was questioning him.

"Where is Mr Watson?!" The man was asking frantically.

"Talking to the men." The tone of his voice implied what John was actually doing to the thugs.

"Shit!" The man said to nobody in particular. He pulled out a walkie-talkie and began shouting into it. He then ran into the warehouse leaving Sherlock to stand alone in the sudden quiet.

The detective debated whether to go in after him but decided against it. The high functioning sociopath waited for almost five minutes before he turned to walk back in the warehouse. He reached a hand out to open the door when the door swung open towards him. Sherlock jumped back quickly to stop himself getting hit.

Carlson came out first dragging John by the wrist. The doctor obviously wasn't done in the warehouse. The blogger had traces of blood on his hands and some he had accidentally smudged on his face. He was out of breath and clearly still furious. John flicked Carlson's hand off his wrist and stormed forward to a town car which had just pulled up to the curb.

"Get them taken somewhere so that I can finish with them later." John snapped to Carlson.

"I'm not your PA." The man muttered under his breath.

He slid into the car and slammed the door leaving Carlson abandoned on the side of the road. He looked up at Sherlock and the genius shrugged with a smirk playing on his lips.

The detective turned and started to stride down the road.

"Where are you going?!" Carlson called.

"Home!" Sherlock called back from where be stood down the road.

Carlson sighed, "Come here! I'll call a car and we'll drop you home and you never know, maybe John won't kill you!" He joked at his boss' fury.

Sherlock chuckled and walked up to join the man.  
-

Sherlock was just entering the flat as John was leaving with a heavy looking bag and a vicious smirk. The metal objects in the bag clinked and hit against each other as the doctor jogged down the stairs. Sherlock moved over to the windows and watched as his flat mate got into another dark car. He felt like he needed to wish the men John was visiting good luck. He knew that John probably wouldn't kill the men. He'd most likely simply rough them up and teach them a lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter. Next comes the epilogue!


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John might not torture but he probably has men to ensure that it got done.

Epilogue- 1 month later

"John?" Sherlock whined in the voice he knew annoyed the doctor the most.

"Sherlock?" The soldier stated firmly. He looked up from the tea he was drinking and over at the detective. He was so glad that he could buy finer brands now that everyone knew. He was supposed to be working but he got a little bit distracted by the fine tea.

"Can I borrow some money?" The sociopath said and he stretched out the words like an infant who was asking for biscuits. The detective was lying with his head flopping upside down off the edge of the sofa. His curls hung down from his head and the very tips of the curls brushed against the floorboards. He studied John carefully.

"What for?" The blond man asked before taking a sip of his steaming tea.

"I need to buy a sheep." The genius said decisively and nodded as if to affirm it to himself.

"What do you want with a sheep?" It sounded like he was making conversation with a child.

"Not an alive one. Don't be ridiculous. No, I need a dead one." The consulting detective corrected his friend.

"What do you want with a sheep, be it dead or alive?" The businessman asked with the patience of a saint. His phone bleeped as he received a message from Lindsey reminding him of a meeting they had tomorrow. He smiled.

"John?! I'm talking. Pay attention!" Sherlock demanded.

John's head shot up and he looked at his friend's upside down face, "Right. Yes. Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I need the sheep for an experiment, obviously!" The genius sang.

"Fine. I'll give you the money but why won't you ask your brother?" John frowned slightly.

"I am fed up with doing him favours." The tall man stated as of it were obvious.

"Of course." The blogger mumbled to himself.

"GO AWAY, MYCROFT!" Sherlock bellowed a second later, making John jump.

The next thing John knew, Mycroft was stepping around the door and into the living room. John quickly scanned his eyes over this friend's brother, the diet had obviously failed. He tried not to chuckle.

Mycroft glided across the room and lowered himself elegantly into his little brother's armchair. The upside down detective scowled at the politician.

"Have you heard, John?" The government official asked while picking non-existent dirt off his neatly pressed suit.

"I've heard a lot of things, Mycroft. You'll have to be more specific." John said while looking down at some budget sheets that were spread on his lap.

"Three men have washed up on the banks of the Thames." When John didn't answer he continued. "Apparently, there are signs of light torture."

The doctor stopped reading and then looked up at the elder Holmes slowly, "Oh dear. You can't help but wonder what they must have done to warrant such a horrible and excruciating death." John said blankly.

"Indeed. The police were going to ask Sherlock to take a look but I suspect that it was nothing more that gang rivalry, don't you think?" Mycroft watched the doctor carefully.

"Yes. That's all it usually is." The soldier replied quietly.

"I thought that you'd share my opinion. Thank you for your time, Dr Watson." Mycroft then stood and exited the room. He'd gotten all he needed.

John's eyes didn't leave the chair that he had previously occupied. The doctor rubbed his right hand. It was still aching from holding a small knife for long periods of time. Sherlock watched his friend carefully but understood why he had done everything that he did.

Lestrade zipped open the body bag and peered inside. Bruises in the shape of chains had formed around the neck. He swallowed as he pulled the zipper further down away from the deformed face. His breath caught in his throat as he saw words carved into the man's torso. The autopsy had stated that the cuts and lacerations had taken place before the man's death. It made Greg scowl. Nobody deserved this. The words were written in sharp lines obviously carved in by a knife. Lestrade knew that he never wanted to meet the man who had done this. Tell man who, without a shaking hand, had carved:

Revenge

Weak

Pain

Hate

Crime

The words were repeated over and over all across the torso. Whoever did this must be a brutal and savage person with no love or compassion inside of them. He never wanted to meet this person.

Just then the door of the autopsy room burst open and Sherlock strode in followed by John.

"John! Sherlock!" She called out cheerfully, happy to see his crime busters. He couldn't be happier to see the two men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all guys! Thanks for everything. Don't forget to drop a comment to let me know what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to discuss anything about Fanfiction or Millionaire you can contact me on my Fanfiction email-   
> pure_fury@yahoo.com


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